crimson moon
by etsi
Summary: Isolated from her coven, a recluse named Melissa finds her power through the voice of a strange man in in her head. However, with his insight her coven's previously normal actions don't seem so normal anymore… Kol/OC
1. prologue

_I don't own TVD/TO_

 _.._

 _prologue_

 _.._

"Melissa Millson," an old, gravelly voice calls my name, tone sharp like the edge of a dagger. It sends a jolt down my spine, as if I'd been electrocuted. Her dark eyes peer at me, narrow and full of contempt. I stand. "To the ritual chamber. Your results will determine your future within this coven."

"Yes, my lady Helen," I say, bowing my head to my coven leader and making my way towards the arch. I can feel eyes following me, some belonging to other initiates while others were higher-classed members here to observe. I knew my mother was in the latter group, watching me, hoping I would make her proud rather than embarrass her, but ultimately knowing I would fail.

My skin crawled, and I avert my eyes to the ground, hiding my face behind long auburn hair. The sounds of my footsteps hit the stone floor, much too loud, much too alone despite the surrounding faces. The silence I left behind me was absolute, and spoke volumes.

I stop, and look up; the arch is above me, looming sinisterly, pulsing with power. I know that crossing this means no going back — I know that after this, my life will never be the same again. My stomach is at my feet. I know what fear feels like, but somehow this feels like so much more.

Looking through the archway is like looking into the depths of a vast, undiscovered ocean. Beyond this stone archway held the key to my future — the unknown.

I don't want to enter. I want to go home and climb into bed and hide under my blankets. But the eyes, baring into my back like knives, urge me forward.

I close my eyes, and take a step.


	2. one

_.._

 _One_

 _.._

 _A woman with blonde hair which shines like silver under the moonlight sits with her back to me. She's on a ledge, feet in the open air, and she stares out into the ocean with a calm expression. Then slowly, she turns to me, eyes a dark midnight blue that glitter like stars, and she says bitingly, "leave."_

The image dissolves, and immediately I am faced with another.

 _The woods are silent. The cold is biting at my face, hands and my legs. It is still night, and there is an eerie calmness in the atmosphere. And then the screaming starts._

 _"_ _They killed me!" A voice bellows, the epitome of fury, and I hear the flapping of wings as a few startled birds escape the trees. There is a shout, and then overhead, a tree topples to the ground with a rattling crack. "They killed_ me _! Me!"_

 _They sound so indignant, so unbelievably stunned, and I feel the clench of curiosity gripping me. What did this person mean? They aren't dead, aren't they?_

 _I step forwards, grasping the prickly bush, pushing the leafy branches down, my eyes catching sight of a man with his back to me, with dishevelled walnut-brown hair—_

"Melissa!"

I startle, sitting up with a deep, rattling gasp that I felt from the stomach to the throat. My bleary eyes focused, and I found myself sitting in the ritual room, the archway meters away in the corner of my eyes. Mother was beside me, a hand digging into my shoulder with a gripe like vice. And standing near my feet was Helen Burmé, the leader of our coven.

"Wh—What?" I stutter, blinking.

Speaking with Helen Burmé, the coven leader, has always felt like walking on thin ice. She had a presence, dark and powerful and dangerous that hung over her like screaming, overly aggressive aura. It was almost impossible to feel calm in her company.

Helen's eyes bare down on me like a predator on prey. She steps forward, her wrinkled face in an expression of condescension, hunched figure shadowing me in scorn. "You failed," she said insultingly.

It hits me like a punch to the throat, and I'm robbed of breath. I don't look at my mother, not as the stinging comes to my eyes, or even when Helen's expression changes to what looks like satisfaction.

"I—I don't remember," I blurt blankly, knowing that my words aren't helping this situation but not understanding how it had come to this at all. "What did I…?"

"You collapsed before you could do the ritual," Helen answers. "But that tells it all — if you can't even start a simple ritual, you aren't help to any coven at all." That said, she turns and makes her way back to the arch, dismissing us.

I watch her go, my heart pounding. I feel my cheeks flame with humiliation and panic. Everything seems so blurred, dream-like and I feel so confused. What happened? Why did I collapse? What am I going to do now that my hopes are shattered?

Blearily, I pull myself to my knees, but even then everything is wobbly and distorted and confusing. "Mother—"

"Don't," she interrupts coldly. She reaches down and hauls me up against her shoulder, face set like stone. She doesn't look surprised — just disappointed and shameful. I lower my eyes and swallow weakly, only to find my throat dry, and lashes heavy with restrained tears. "We're leaving." I nod.

She mutters a few words, and I feel her magic briefly encompassing me like a thin, cool cloak before it vanishes, leaving me feeling rejuvenated and aware. She lets go of me immediately and moves towards the back door, not looking at me once.

I trail behind her feeling everything like the screw-up they think I am.

The eyes of the coven initiates stare at me through the arch until the door slams shut.

I leave my hopes and dreams of impressing my mother and finally being accepted back in the ritual room, cloaked in the magic of the arch, gathering dust in my wake.

The door to my future — the unknown, has been unlocked, and I can only dread what is to come.


End file.
